


From Eyes of Flame, Ruby Tears There Came

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a wolf by birth and a deer by marriage.  But the Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms belongs only to the lions now.  </p><p>Written for the <a href="http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/2421.html">Game of Thrones Kink Meme</a> on LiveJournal.  The prompt was:  Cersei/Sansa/Jaime; in the lion's den.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Eyes of Flame, Ruby Tears There Came

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate-universe story.
> 
> The title comes from "The Little Girl Lost" by William Blake.

_The lions have ravaged the land, devoured us all, chewed up our bones and spat them out like so much refuse.  
  
They own everything now._  
  
The Lannisters had flirted with absolute domination for years- so powerful, so intimidating, so disgustingly wealthy.  But the abdication of the King’s Hand exposed the last bit of flesh, and they tore at it with avarice.    
  
Sansa had watched her father leave, eyes stormy and shoulders slumped, clasping tight to Arya’s hand as they mounted their horses.  She met them at the gates, gripping the iron until her knuckles went white, wanting to scream and scream-  _take me home, take me with you, how can you leave me here?_   Eddard Stark only kissed her brow, whispered an apology into her hair, and then he was gone.    
 _  
__The wolf skulks away with his tail between his legs_ ,  Joffrey had crowed in the Great Hall that evening, his emerald eyes sparkling with a triumph that found its fellow in his mother’s expression.  The King’s seat was empty, as was usual these days; Robert Baratheon drank himself into a stupor almost daily, and he found himself bedridden more often than not.    
  
The King did manage to drag himself to the Sept of Baelor for his son’s wedding- he slouched down in his seat, unkempt and ruddy, stinking of wine and ale and fragrance.  Sansa felt her stomach turn, and she looked away, stared down at the ground, barely noticed when Joffrey traded her Stark cloak for a black-and-gold Baratheon one.  She endured the feast in silence, danced when it was required, sat still when it was not-  _I’ve no family at my own wedding.  No mother, no father, no brothers or sister- just Lannisters, Lannisters everywhere._  
 _  
__I belong to them now_ ,  she thought when Joffrey parted her legs and rutted between them- a bit of pain, but nothing to stir her out of the numbness.    
 _  
__I belong to them now,_ she thought when she stared into her looking glass; the Southron sun put streaks of gold into her red hair, bright against her fair skin.  
 _  
__Yes, I belong to them now_ ,  she thinks as she lies in the Queen's bed, the silken sheets soft against her naked skin, a pair of golden heads nestled into her chest.  
  
Queen Cersei takes her left nipple in her mouth, Ser Jaime her right, and they suck and nibble in an uncannily similar rhythm.  Sansa brushes her fingertips over both sets of flaxen curls, and she finds herself wondering whether they nursed their mother like this, one on each breast, in perfect harmony.  
  
They stroke between her breasts, their hands trailing down to trace over her abdomen.    
  
(They clasp hands then, fingers laced, tight, tight, tight.)  
  
It is depraved and unquestionably sinful, but something about these evenings provides an escape, taps a little chink into the shield of nothingness that Sansa has constructed so carefully.  She moves her hands down over their heads and rubs circles on their upper backs- Cersei’s smooth white skin, Jaime’s hard, defined muscles.  Cersei bites down harder on her nipple, and Jaime follows suit.  Sansa drops her head back and breathes a light sigh: _ Yes._  
  
They kiss her then, both at once, lips and tongues smothering her little rosebud mouth.  She keeps up as best she can- (she pretends not to notice when Jaime’s mouth slips away from hers and lands fully on Cersei’s, pretends not to notice the twins’ tongues brushing each other...)  
  
Sansa tries to fondle Cersei’s breasts and bring her hand down between the other woman’s legs, but the Queen  does not like to be touched that way, not by her- she dominates, the lion is larger and stronger and hungrier than the wolf, and the wolf had best learn her place.  
  
But she does allow Sansa to wrap her legs around her hips and rub against her cunt.  The women are both slick, and Sansa cries out a bit from the friction.  Cersei kisses her then, biting on her lips until they sting and tingle.  
  
She feels Jaime behind her, feels his tongue tracing the curve of her neck, feels his fingers slipping over her and in her.  Sansa bucks back into his hand, her legs sliding down over Cersei’s hips.  This all feels like  _something_ , and that’s enough for her-  (it’s funny, the way she reckons it, as if she has a choice.)  
  
The Kingsguard’s Lord Commander removes his fingers from Sansa and extends his wrist; Cersei squeals, and Sansa forces herself not to look down (just an accident, isn’t it?).    
  
She’s impossibly wet when Cersei rearranges everyone (that’s always the way of it) and Sansa straddles Ser Jaime and rides his cock.  He’s larger than Joffrey, and she welcomes the clenching of her inner muscles, welcomes the stretching (it’s something, it feels like something).    
  
Cersei pushes at Sansa’s back, and she leans down, her hair tumbling over one shoulder, her eyes, her face so close to Ser Jaime’s.  In a moment of indulgence, she brushes her fingertip over his jaw-  _Joffrey will look like this in twenty years’ time._  
  
(And she thinks she knows why, but she’d never speak of it, they own everything here and she must fall in line, fall in line...)  
  
She looks at Jaime, but he does not look at her.  His eyes focus over her shoulder; she turns to see Cersei right behind her, one hand between her own legs while the other-  
  
A sudden push, and Sansa cries out.  Two of Cersei’s long, tapered fingers thrust into her cunt, brushing up against Jaime’s cock.    
  
She feels filled- it’s a relief, after so much emptiness, so much nothing.  She closes her eyes and rolls her hips, harder and quicker, her back brushing against Cersei’s breasts, her hands flat on Jaime’s chest.    
  
The Lannister twins come in perfect unison, each with the other’s name on their lips.    
  
After Ser Jaime leaves, Cersei reaches into a jewelry box and pulls out an ornate necklace of gold and rubies: a selection from the ancient Lannister jewel collection.  Her full lips, pink and swollen, curve into a smile as she reaches over Sansa’s shoulders to fasten the piece around her neck.    
  
Sansa glances down; the necklace’s pendant, a golden lion with bared teeth and ruby eyes, hangs heavily between her breasts.  
 _  
__Beautiful_ ,  Cersei breathes.    
  
Clenching her hand around the necklace, Sansa summons up every bit of nerve she can find and asks the Queen about acquiring some moon tea.  
  
Cersei only shakes her head and laughs, her white teeth gleaming sharp in the candlelight.   _What does it matter?_ she scoffs.  _Your child would be a lion either way.   No need to fret over particulars._  
  
A jolt of boldness shakes Sansa, and she very nearly opens her mouth to say,  _But Joffrey is supposed to be a stag, not a lion._  
  
But they own her now, they own everything, and as cowardly as it seems, Sansa is afraid to be punished, afraid to hurt, afraid to die.  
  
And so she nods and says nothing.  

 

  



End file.
